Night Whispers
by DarkHorseBlueSky
Summary: It's been said that when the last streaks of daylight fade into the night, your darkest thoughts come out to play with the shadows. A series of oneshots; rated T for mental trauma and the personal paranoia of the author. Dedicated to the tributes...
1. Haymitch

**I own nothing.**

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One

Haymitch

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It's clear now, what they mean when they say it. Once you go into the Games, a part of you never really comes out. That part is running, running, running from unseen predators now, even as he tries to sleep. He tosses and turns, trying to escape. But he knows that even as he closes his eyes, he will still be running.

He is supposed to be safe. After he got out, he was supposed to be safe, right? Wrong. He is in more danger than ever. He is all too aware of this now, as he curls up in his bed, alone in the dark. Heart pounding, he reaches for the glass of water he always keeps by his bed. It has become a habit for him, in the past two weeks since he has gotten out of those horrible Games, to always keep water nearby. The thirst will come at unforeseen times, scratching and clawing at his throat, threatening to choke him if he does not alleviate it immediately. It reminds him all too much of the nights he spent in the arena, hungry and thirsty, when there was nothing to drink but the meager drops of rainwater.

He is not sure when exactly he falls asleep but he knows when he is actually asleep when he sees her face again, blurred as a distant memory. _"You have to win…"_ she whispers over and over, her faint voice as an echo. But then he is not looking into the face of Maysilee but into the face of Ribbon, the District 1 girl whom he had indirectly killed with the force field. Her face is contorted into a revolting snarl even in death, and her green eyes shine with a strange, manic light. He can hear the growls of the muttattions and the screams of the jabberjays now, drilling relentlessly into his skull, and can feel again that burning thirst…

And he sits bolt upright, wide awake.

Once you kill someone, they never really leave you alone.

And once you leave the Games, a part of you always stays behind.

If they are connected in any way, he has just found out how.

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**Who should be next? I have a list of my own, but I want to know my readers' opinions. Updates will be slow, seeing as I have not yet written any except this one.**

**Reviews are love...**


	2. Johanna

Two

Johanna

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The rain.

The horrible, horrible rain.

She just wants it to stop.

Just.

Stop.

The pain. The uncontrollable spasms. The terrifying feeling of being separated from her body. She can feel it all over again, and for a paralyzing moment of pure horror she feels like she is back in that underground room in the Capitol, with the white-clad torturers surrounding her on all sides. But she is not. She is being tortured inside her own home.

She wants the rain to stop drumming on the roof, to just leave her alone. To let her sleep.

But the rain does not leave her alone.

And she knows that even if she does give in to the creeping, warm unconsciousness, it will seep into her dormant mind and torture her until she wakes.

She knows that she is safe now, that the war and the pain is supposed to be over. Peace and justice reign. Her captors and torturers are all dead. The muttattions and the Careers have long since faded into the distant memories of most. So why do they still haunt her?

The lightning flashes. In her mind, the fire flickers. The thunder rumbles. In her mind, the bombs detonate. The rain patters. In her mind, she braces herself for the unbearable, excruciating shock that she knows will follow. Involuntarily she cries out at the next streak of lightning, and she is left shivering and wide-eyed when she realizes the pain didn't come.

But deep in her subconscious, she is still afraid that someday, it will.

The war may be over, but its agonies echo in every drop of rain.

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**This was inspired by the thunderstorm that's raging outside my house right now! Super awesome!**

**By the way, these are not in chronological order. I'll try to mention when within the series it happens; you'll just have to watch out.**

**Suggestions are appreciated!**

**Reviews are love...**


	3. Lavinia

Three

Lavinia

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She pleads, but no one hears her.

She wishes for comfort, but no one gives it to her.

She cries, but no one cares.

She is a slave.

Mute, helpless, friendless. Hungry, thirsty, lonely. The beatings, the starvation, the grueling hours of forced work. She tries to call out through the darkness of her cell, but they have stripped her of that ability. Curling up on her thin mattress, she lets the tears flow. If her brother had survived… no. In a way, she is grateful that he was killed. At least he is now in a better place. She does not wish for him to share her fate. She only wishes that she could have followed him.

Defeatedly, she wraps her thin blanket tighter around her shivering body. Hope is gone now; after a month of captivity she doubts that her parents will come to save her now. They had clearly abandoned her, renouncing all relationships to her and her deceased brother. By doing this, they would not be condemned to the same punishment. And once again, she reflects that she is somehow grateful that they did. If they had followed her here, she would not be able to live with the guilt that she had brought it upon them. For a moment, she wished that she had not spoken out. Maybe then, her family would still be whole. Maybe then her brother would still be alive.

No! a small voice in her head exclaims. If she did not stand up for what she believed was right, who would have? Who would be where she was now? Who would say that what the leaders of this nation were doing was wrong? She had to do it.

But now, there is no one left to stand up. No one left with the voice to protest.

The punishment for speaking out for freedom is mute servitude.

The irony is sickening.


	4. Rue's Parents

Four

Rue's parents

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They cry together, huddled up on their thin mattress. Even though he tries to comfort her, he knows his words are weak. It was inevitable that their daughter would die, anyway. She had no chance, even as quick and clever as she was. They knew that she had sacrificed herself for them, taking on extra tesserae as the first child so that they might be sustained.

Across the room, their children are already asleep. They had long since exhausted themselves from crying, but they both know that soon one or more will wake up from a nightmare. The youngest ones always do after a tribute dies, and the two grieving parents are worried for them, worried what horrors the death of their oldest daughter will bring to the younger ones.

The mere thought of her, the image of the spear piercing Rue's stomach, unveils a sorrow that they had tried to hide from their children. He holds her close as the tears flow, not wanting to speak. What would they do now, that Rue was gone? She had always been the role model, the symbol, the ray of hope for her siblings. And now that ray of hope had been doused like a candle under a waterfall, and they felt nothing but numbing devastation.

At first they had disbelieved it. Hoping that it was just another nightmare, that they would wake up to find that Rue was helping the little ones get dressed for school, or making breakfast, or tugging on their blankets and reminding them that it was time to get up for work. But they were jolted out of their state of disbelief when their youngest son whispered her name, and started to cry. And they cried with him.

Now they are crying again, their fingers and toes numb from the shock and the pain and the sorrow. The images replay in their minds incessantly –– the spear, the song, the flowers. Marvel. Katniss. Rue.

They know that they will receive the body, so they can bury her. But after the Games, they know that the Capitol will expect them to get over it, and to get back to work as if nothing had happened. They are now familiar with the pain they had seen but never personally experienced. They know now.

But no amount of knowledge can replace what they just lost.

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**I'm not really sure about this chapter; I wrote it with only a vague idea of what it was going to be about. Please tell me if it's good!**

**Reviews are love...**


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